Not a habit. But I've been twice since I saw you last.
OLIVER. I see. And that's nearly two years ago. It's an annual
thing, like a birthday?
ANABEL. No. I'll go on, then.
OLIVER. You'll be late now.
ANABEL. Shall I? It doesn't matter.
OLIVER. We are going to see you again, aren't we?
ANABEL (after a pause). Yes, I hope so, Oliver.
OLIVER. How have you been these two years--well?--happy?
ANABEL. No, neither. How have you?
OLIVER. Yes, fairly happy. Have you been ill?
ANABEL. Yes, in France I was very ill.
OLIVER. Your old neuritis?
ANABEL. No. My chest. Pneumonia--oh, a complication.
OLIVER. How sickening! Who looked after you? Is it better?
ANABEL. Yes, it's a great deal better.
OLIVER. But, Anabel--we must fix a meeting. I say, wait just a
moment. Could I call on your people? Go into town with me one day.
I don't know whether Gerald intends to see you--whether he intends
to ask you to Lilley Close.
GERALD. Oh, it's all right.
ANABEL. He's no need. I'm fixed up there already.
GERALD. What do you mean?
ANABEL. I am at Lilley Close every day--or most days--to work with
your sister Winifred in the studio.
GERALD. What?--why, how's that?
ANABEL. Your father asked me. My father was already giving her some
lessons.
GERALD. And you're at our house every day?
ANABEL. Most days.
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